The washerman's ass, find I not,
Loitering around,
moving to and fro,
There was a time of busy schedule and hectic activity
And thereafter came a lull
and felt it neglected and ignored
and dismissed,
The owner claiming not over
And the masterless ass doomed to die
In harness
As for machination and electric laundries,
Voluntary retirement scheme
And golden handshaking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem